


Same coin

by Kikichu



Category: FFXV - Fandom, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Breakfast, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikichu/pseuds/Kikichu
Summary: Two sides to every coin; two people with the same job just existing. All fluff this round.





	Same coin

Once in a while, someone comes along that makes you question  
-your resolve.  
-your ability to keep your mouth shut.  
-the conscious grasp on where you are at any given moment and time.  
Once in a lifetime, you'll meet anyone like Ignis Scientia.  
He's a different kind of man; not in the sense of 'he's a snowflake' or 'he's just that kind of guy'. He's different in that way he carries himself. He's grown here in Insomnia, though his accent reminds me something of Tenebrae mixed with somewhere else. Ignis is just that kind of different you can't place your thumb on solidly.  
Even now. I can't help but watch him prepare coffee, that sigh he heaves every morning we are out of Ebony, the sign of resignation of 'Gods help me keep my patience'.  
It will always make me smile.  
He's always got perfect posture, but in the morning, the early morning, when he thinks no one is awake enough to pay attention; Ignis leans over the counter. He does nothing without reason, though; even now I'm sure he's stretching the backs of his calves while he watches the coffee drip. His back his softly arched, his legs straight as he cracks that perfect spine. Iggy must not know what reels through any onlookers mind when he does that. There's no way he does; not with the way he curves into it, not with the way he opens his chest and draws his shoulders back like a cat's stretch.  
He drives me wild. Feral. I cannot say how long I'll stare at him each morning, I couldn't tell you how many minutes it takes for that coffee to brew but it's already chiming, again. It seems so short at the moment but I'm sure its a few minutes. A few minutes of watching this man stretch. A few minutes of gazing at this incredible man in silence.  
When he looks over my heart skips and I have to pretend to be phased out, blaming it on sleep or exhaustion. Any excuse; shit... What excuse had I yesterday? Have I answered that too many times in a row? My hesitance only draws another sigh from him, a soft half visible smile as he pours my coffee. Relief- he's bought into the 'nothing' of my answer; no quips for him this morning, I've spent too long staring. He's not wearing any undergarments today; he's not any lines under those skin tight bottoms. Offering him a smile, I can't tell him how much I feel for him. I can't bring myself to complicate his life any further. I can't convince myself I'll choose him over our chosen King; I've pride in my work just as much as he and lying to either one of us is so far from fair. Instead, I can stay at his side like this for a while. I can enrich his life a fragment of how he enriches mine; at least until he feels it is time and finds himself someone that will carry on his line. He nudges the coffee closer, my hand already on the cup; does he realize my hand is already there? I smile again, I've been lost in my thoughts. “Morning, Iggy.” Is all I say quietly, and I hear it back but it's cut off by two waking youngsters. The quiet was nice while it'd lasted; not that I would trade it for the world. 

\--------

It's first thing in the morning and already I've the bad news; a severe lack of Ebony brand coffee plagues me in my waking hours as well as my nightmares. Another day, another empty can of Ebony. A heavy sigh. At least there's always a strong brew on hand. Stretching my back as I wait for the machine I can see Gladio seated at the table. His hair is wild yet again, I sigh at that. I wonder if he's conscious of how often I touch him. I wonder if he's aware how many stares his bare-chested-strutting garners in his team alone? There's always the excuse of his eagle- thank the Astrals for that. There will always be those scars, memories of patching him up, fluttering touches to his chest; the excuse of 'I'm just ensuring the healing process is fast enough'.  
I can't tell him any of that.  
It wouldn't be right.  
There it is- the crack of my back; I can move into my shoulders- open my chest. A minute peek will do no harm; of course, he's still looking. I know he's not phased out- he can't be, I may have a slight haze around figures, but I can make out the shift of his eyes, the dilation of his pupils; the veins on his neck. I can see all of it from here, even just in the distorted reflection of the coffee.  
I wonder if he is aware I can see him? That I know? That it's every morning I can catch him in the kettle, the mirror clear image of the Regalia, can he tell I can see him in the rearview mirror?  
The man doesn't breathe hard, but you can see his muscles move, the way the eagle's head shifts as though it lives. Damn the Amicitia, damn them and their perfections. Even his father aged well; something else I shouldn't dare think of. Everyone always has a preconception of a man his size, of a man with his stature. He comes off gruff, I'm sure, to the strongest of people. Deep down, however, the man is sweet; Gladiolus Amicitia has more to give than one can receive without guilt. He'll make someone incredibly happy one day. Until then, I hope to make him smile as much as he makes me, I hope that I can make his life just a little easier, and give him a place to unwind.  
The chime of the coffee machine plays that chime again.  
Looking to him, he's looking for an excuse? He looks like he's deep in thought, another sigh; perhaps I'll just pour his coffee, I can only assume he'll join me while the hour is still quiet. I pour it and I can see his eyes on my fingers, perhaps he's just deep in thought again. Even as I hold out the cup, he only sets it on the table; no sip, not even a smell. I nudge it to him; though honestly, it's a guise. I do this every morning he hesitates; I'll softly touch the back of his hand, so warm, so rough.  
Another smile, I echo back. “Good morning, Gladiolus.”  
I can't tell him how I feel, my thoughts. I couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him. Wouldn't be fair to Noctis. Royalty and titles come with responsibilities. I could not press more duty on this man, not when he carries everyone and thing on his shoulders. I shall simply stay quiet and continue working at his side. Working with him. Always. Through it all, I am his other half, perhaps not in love but at the very least at our life's work.  
I'm about to open my mouth to add more, but the boys are awake and my mind flutters from my needs to the prince and his companion; breakfast. No one else cooks but I. At least they can enjoy that each day. I can permit myself more thoughts later once the boys are in bed; I can always do such things in bed when they are asleep. It's hard always coming last, but I wouldn't change my placement for the world.


End file.
